Prologue: Fair e-Tale of the Demi Hero of Many Faces

"Behold, from the land of the farther suns; I returned. 

I am Lazarus, come from the dead, 

Come back to tell you all,

I shall tell you all"

                                          -Malexander Supertourist

In a time out of mind, there never exists a warrior. A humble and unassuming half hero, answering to different names and wearing different faces. Lacking any tether to reality; this warrior exists the King of Infinite Space, free to roam the realm of imagination. I call this warrior Billy Pilgrim. The warrior is neither male, nor named Billy Pilgrim. But I call him Billy Pilgrim, and sometimes the warrior responds. 

In a time out of place, there did exist a bastard dragon. Because even in tales without fairies, all great fairy-tales deserve a good dragon. And because dragons exist -unlike the fictional warrior, though both use many names and many faces. This dragon calls itself Malexander Supertourist. It is a silly name. It is a silly dragon. Although, like all dragons, it is still dangerous.

In a time out of time, there may exist a monster. Malexander Supertourist and Billy Pilgrim have hunted this monster, this monster has hunted them both in turn (regardless of faces). The beast is described to appear as exactly the difference 'tween a pack of monkeys and the human subconscious. The beast has no name. It does not die. It is nothing. It is fear itself. 

As metaphorical imagery of a created fiction within the human mind; these characters violently interlock in an epic eternal clash symbolic of the internal struggle against external reality. Like all characters and all stories, they first exist solely in the mind (or arguably not at all), but in the tradition of legend, when shared as stories, these fictions evolve from mind to mind, from time to time, from place to place. I give you, dear reader, my half hero. I give you my dragon. I give you my nothing. You may do with all whatever your fancy imagines, and you may call them what you like. Heroes have a thousand faces, and dragons have a thousand teeth. 

The faces I choose for my hero, like the faces I choose for my dragon, are simply reflections of myself, for better or for worse. I keep my monster faceless so that when I glance its way the abyss may stare back. At times, the landscapes of the mind can offer as many dangers as our brave old world, and as much beauty too. The character of the characters in both makes up any difference. These are the characters of my world. I take them across this new threshold, or they carry me. Sometimes we take turns. 

Non-fiction is seldom as fun a reality as fantasy. I misadventure to become a hero (or at least half one) in the Cambellian mono-myth of a study abroad term in London. My highest hopes are to eventually discover a land of lions and unicorns, either internally or externally. Some things, both of reality and fiction, will be recorded here. This chronicle is one of heroism. Whatever that means.    

 -it                           

              

"And I will try to express myself in some mode of life or art as freely as I can as wholly as I can, using for my defence the only arms I allow myself to use -silence, exile, and cunning."

-Billy Pilgrim